


Bitte Bitte

by AnnetheCatDetective



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: BDSM, Canon Disabled Character, Dom Newt, Gags, Light Bondage, M/M, sub Hermann
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:37:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9042782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: Hermann knows he has emotional issues. Hermann trusts Newt to help him. And the solution he has in mind is going to be enjoyable for both of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skull_Bearer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/gifts).



> The request was "Something sexy based on this fanart: http://raythrill.tumblr.com/post/89210700805/yeah-black-tape-he-talks-to-much-thanks-for-the "... and it turned out a bit more emotional than sexy, but as per the request, is one hundred percent consensual. 
> 
> I had so much fun writing it-- I can't imagine an assignment that would have made me happier as a writer!

“Can I ask you for something?”

 

Hermann sounds stiff, uncomfortable… every bit the emotionally constipated dork Newt remembers with a mix of exasperation and fondness, and he stares at the corner resolutely, and they’ve come so far, so whatever this is, it must be big.

 

“You can ask me for anything, you know that.” Newt smiles, draping himself across Hermann’s desk. He waits to be told off for it, but the reprimand doesn’t come, Hermann so focused on not looking at him that he hasn’t noticed. 

 

“Newton-- Newt.” Hermann swallows hard, and yeah, definitely big. Since drifting, he’s used Newt’s preferred nickname more often than not, only retreating back into formality when nervous or irritated, or trying to look professional before some third party. 

 

Newt stretches his hand out, touching Hermann’s arm, and while Hermann still doesn’t look at him, he relaxes slightly into the touch. “Spit it out, my dude. It’s me, so… like, you don’t have a lot of room to get embarrassed, I’m the king of being too smart to be as stupid as you know I am. Maybe the other way around.”

 

A smile twitches at the corner of Hermann’s mouth, though it doesn’t last as long as Newt would like, and he glances over, just briefly.

 

“And you know what I am like. Better than anyone, and perhaps a little better than-- You know me, and how I am, with… with feelings. For myself, for you, just for managing them in general. I don’t know how to handle them, and we both know that pushing them down is no solution.”

 

“Yeah. What can I do?”

 

“Give me an outlet, or force me, or…  _ push _ me. Let me feel too much and then be there when-- and then  _ be _ there.”

 

Newt wonders if there’s an unspoken ‘this time’ hanging there, but he nods. He knows. Hermann’s repression tactic had led to spectacular blow-ups in the past, and always in a cycle that was no good for them, and Newt was no better with emotions, but at least he could let himself have a catharsis of sorts and feel better after some time alone to blow off steam, where without an immediate resolution, Hermann always just tamped it all back down until the next shouting match, and Newt’s attempts at getting his attention or even clumsy tries at making peace only fueled the fire because Hermann wasn’t ready to feel, and Newt was too ready. 

 

This time, though, they know where they’ve faltered with each other, and where they’ve assumed wrongly, and this time, Hermann believes he could get there if Newt could just push him to it, and that they could make up after and it would be good.

 

Newt would be lying if he said he didn’t have some ideas. 

 

“I have your permission to make you angry?” He grins impishly up at Hermann, from his spot still draped over the desk. 

 

“Yes. Angry, hurt, all of it. Just… then let me work through it. Help me with it.”

 

“Yeah. I can do that. Um… but not here. Not… not like usual. Okay?”

 

Hermann nods. “Quite.”

 

\---/-/---

 

Hermann eyes the paraphenalia Newt has gathered suspiciously, but he doesn’t say no outright. Newt has dumped it all onto Hermann’s bed-- essentially their bed, since the drift-- and has not even mentioned where he’d gotten it all, though some things were easy to guess at.

 

“When I said I wanted you to make me feel things, it was a… a more emotional request, than what you might be thinking…”

 

“Trust me, you are gonna be emotional.” Newt promises, picking up the rope. “It’s gonna be better if I tie you up. Um, I think it will be.”

 

“You just get off on this.” Hermann accuses. He’s seen a couple of the pictures that flit through Newt’s mind when it runs free. But then, that cuts both ways…

 

“So do you.” Newt laughs, reaching up and grabbing Hermann’s chin to pull him down into a quick, hard kiss. “The more I run this show, the more you have to just sit there and feel things and run through all your thoughts and emotions. The more you have me shatter you, the better we can put you back together. Now. Do you want me to tie you up?”

 

Somewhere in that speech, Newt’s voice had dropped down from it’s usual high, excitable pitch, into something lower. As low and far more honest than the voice he put on when trying to be ‘sexy’, a voice Hermann can’t help but feel something in him sway to. 

 

“This isn’t about sex-- at least, not this time. Not for me. That isn’t what I need, why I asked you.”

 

“Okay. Sex is off the table, then.”

 

“I don’t mean-- Look.” Hermann feels his ears burn, and he looks away. “I wouldn’t blame you for… becoming excited. But-- this time, I mean--”

 

“Sex is off the table.” Newt repeats, firmly, and Hermann feels that pull again, and a newly invigorated confidence in Newt, his ability to be sure and solid when needed. “No matter how excited I get.”

 

Newt grabs a pair of binder clips from some fold in the blankets where Hermann hadn’t really noticed them, and he tosses them off towards Hermann’s desk. Hermann does his best not to imagine-- more than sex, even, he wants physical pain off the table. 

 

“If you’re more comfortable keeping all your clothes on, that’s fine.” Newt adds, and Hermann relaxes a bit, nodding. 

 

“This time.”

 

“Take a position. Anything you think you can stay in-- no lying down, you get to relax after. I might manhandle you a little, is that okay?”

 

“That might be for the best. I-- I’d like to be on the floor, but I can’t stay there.” He admits, his blush flaring up again. “Would-- would it be possible, to…?”

 

“Yeah, I think I can haul you up onto the bed, no problem.” Newt grins and flexes, and Hermann rolls his eyes, but he does feel reassured.

 

He lowers himself down, and the position is not comfortable to begin with, but he hopes he has some time before it grows agonizing. He folds his arms back behind his back, allowing Newt to bind him. It’s simple, just the rope wound around him, tight if he fills his lungs and presses himself outward, but not when he relaxes and lets the air out. 

 

It feels good. Safe.

 

He has no idea why Newt has the tape-- it looks like a particularly wide roll of electrical tape, a fresh roll and not the battered, half-used one from Newt’s workspace. Newt rips off a somewhat-carefully-measured strip and presses it to his own shirtsleeve before quickly ripping it away, a process he repeats a couple of times before gripping Hermann’s chin again. 

 

“Okay, babe, one last kiss.” He says teasingly, bending over Hermann and forcing his head back. The kiss is not deep or unchaste-- nothing to threaten the temporary ban on sex, in Hermann’s mind. The tape, some of its tackiness worn away, is held up, and Hermann understands, and wonders why he hadn’t immediately made the leap.

 

“Sometimes, Herms, you just need to shut up a little. Tell me right now if this isn’t cool with you.”

 

Hermann hesitates. It sounds unpleasant to have against his lips, and even with the stickiness reduced, he’s not sure it won’t hurt coming off again. Will an awful taste linger? But, as Newt had mentioned, the more helpless he can make himself, the better he’ll eventually feel-- he believes that. It had not been said in a self-serving manner, it had been a voicing of Hermann’s own desire to give up control. 

 

He folds his lips in, biting lightly down a moment and letting his mind clear and refocus. If he doesn’t leave the lips themselves exposed to the tape, then he won’t have to deal with their feeling disgusting, at least, and he definitely won’t have to be concerned about taste. He nods once and holds still for Newt to put the tape in place. 

 

“Good boy. Snap your fingers once if you’re uncomfortable and need me to move you, twice if you need to stop right away and take it all off. If I ask you a question, once for yes and twice for no. Got it?”

 

Hermann snaps once. His hip aches, and his lower back, but he can ignore it a while longer for the position. He’s never really been able to feel as if Newt loomed over him before-- even sitting at a desk with Newt standing nearby, even with Newt trying his best to, it never felt like an uneven playing field. On the floor, it does.

 

\---

 

Newt walks around the room a bit as he rehashes his side of old arguments-- never any serious ones, he’s not aiming to really hurt Hermann, only to get on his nerves, piss him off and then force him past the point where they would normally have an explosive fight and retreat to their respective corners. Force him to a quiet place where he can only accept his feelings and let them go, and where he can then be cared for. 

 

Really, the first part is too easy. He just has to do what they’ve always done, the only difference is this time it’s going to be healthy. He needs for that part to go well as much as Hermann does.

 

Being able to walk around out of Hermann’s line of sight is great for two reasons-- it allows Newt to keep the power, to throw Hermann off balance, and it allows him to adjust himself discreetly. He can’t help being turned on… teasing Hermann doesn’t really do it for him when Hermann can’t push back, but having him tied up, that takes his basest instincts and lights them on _ fire _ . He’s glad the old irritating patterns come easy, because his mind is too preoccupied with thoughts of what else he could do with a bound Hermann that he couldn’t play his part otherwise.

 

Hermann lying on his front bent over the edge of the bed with his arms bound-- out in front of him and anchored to something to stretch them taut? Tied behind his back just like this, where Newt could grip them, tug or just hold on while grinding against that ass? Hermann spread eagle on his back, cuffed to the corners of the bedframe, his cock jutting up, flushed and rock hard for Newt’s pleasure? Hermann with thick leather bands around his thighs, his wrists cuffed down to them, his ankles bound together, unable to do much more than shuffle, unable to stop Newt from laying him down on the bed? 

 

Granted, he doesn’t have the necessary equipment for some of the scenarios, but he has rope and he has tape, he has plenty of things he could use with an inventive mind, and he definitely has one of those. 

 

Hermann on his knees is good, too, of course, and Newt makes sure to crowd in near his shoulder and tease him, with mocking words and heated nearness, to grip Hermann’s hair and direct him to either look up at Newt or stare straight forward instead. He doesn’t tug hard, but Hermann doesn’t require much direction, even defiant as his glare sometimes gets when he wishes he could make his own familiar arguments. Even pretend manhandling is hot enough.

 

Hermann hums against his gag-- the gag being the one thing that doesn’t match up to Newt’s other fantasies about Hermann kneeling before him-- an angry, insistent little sound, when Newt purposefully twists facts to suit his own argument, and Newt chuckles.

 

Laughing helps, if the aim is to infuriate Hermann. Hermann never could stand the idea of Newt not taking things seriously enough.

 

“You talk too much.” He smirks, earning another furious bout of muffled hums, and okay, that one was supremely hypocritical, but it does the job. “Well, now you just get to listen to a lecture from famous rockstar biologist Newt Geiszler, baby, so strap in-- what am I saying, you’re already strapped in!-- because I’m gonna teach you some things.”

 

Hermann rolls his eyes, and huffs, and even manages to sneer, as Newt prods and lectures, but the second he hears Hermann snap, all words cease, and when another snap isn’t forthcoming, he hauls Hermann up off the floor and deposits him on the bed, before starting back up again.

 

\---

 

Hermann’s thighs start to burn, and when a spike of pain shoots up his spine and down one leg, his defiance gives way to a little gasp of pain, and he has to call a halt to his current position. His vision fuzzes out a moment as Newt gets him up onto the bed, and even as Newt rearranges him to be as comfortable as possible, lying on his side propped against a pillow, his voice starts back up again.

 

This time, Hermann doesn’t focus on the words. He focuses on the way his pain melts away under Newt’s hands. He focuses on the rhythm of his own heartbeat. He focuses on his memories of every pointless argument and how much he’d wished for things to change, but how he’d never changed them-- he could have. He could have gone after Newt at any time and been the first to apologize. He could at the very least have stopped from escalating their every disagreement. For so long, this was all they knew, and now he’s not sure why he’d thought recreating the old cycle was the answer, what made him think he could change it this time. But it is changed-- Newt has changed it. Newt has taken away Hermann’s ability to do anything but ride the rollercoaster of his own emotions, the flaring anger at all the things the man knew drove him crazy, the regret which always hit when it was too late to fix things, the intense longing for things to be as they were and the second wave of anger because they weren’t-- only that isn’t true, now. Things are greater than even Hermann’s most idealized version of their past. Newt is doing this for him, he’d asked and Newt had trusted him to know what he needed, had promised to provide it.

 

The second wave of anger ebbs almost immediately, fondness crashing over it, the ache of wasted time, his crushing love for this man. Newt senses something, he must, the words which have become so much background noise cease, Newt’s expression going from teasing to tender in an instant. 

 

Hermann doesn’t hear the words, exactly. He hears his own pulse in his ears, and the sound of Newt’s voice as a wordless winding thing, high and soft and sweet, not like regular Newt or like extra-irritating Newt or like cool, collected Dominant Newt, like the Newt who whispers to him at midnight when they are wrapped so close in each others’ arms that the lines between them blur.

 

The lines are blurred again now, Hermann feels open all of a sudden, as if they are drifting again. There are no visions or memories, no reason to imagine this is some far-latent ghost drift, if such a phenomenon exists, just the false sense of being a part of Newt, an extension of Newt’s consciousness rather than his own. 

 

Newt’s erection is prominent, straining visibly against his too-tight jeans, and Hermann would normally feel an answering arousal at the sight, but that is dimmed by the floating feeling he’s wrapped in. He notices it, he thinks he feels positively towards it, but in a general sense. As if it is a thing which has happened to Past Hermann and might happen to Future Hermann, but that does not affect Present Hermann.

 

Nothing affects Present Hermann. He is safe, Newt has done it, has drowned out everything, their own voices included, replaced it all with the purest emotion Hermann knows, his connection to his partner.

 

Lab. Drift. Life. 

 

He loves Newt, as he always has, and no anger ever had the power to erase that. Had he ever been so blind as to believe it did? No… but he had fought against knowing it. 

 

Now he knows it. Newt has pushed him far and hard, pushed him through shouting without being able to shout, pushed him through fighting without his being able to fight. Stripped him of the power to hurt Newt back, or to anger him at least. Gone at him until all the cracks would show, and yet when it all cracked, only the love was left.

 

Newt’s hands are soft, even with their calluses. Newt’s voice is soft, even with its scratchiness. Newt whispers something gentle to him and peels away the tape, which does not pull hard enough to hurt, and Newt lifts him up into an embrace and takes the ropes away, and Newt puts him back down against the pillow. Newt seeks out every ache, strong fingers digging in carefully to massage the pain away, and Hermann is distantly aware of things outside the sphere of Newt touching him, the thing which seems to drown out everything else in the world.

 

Hermann smells cocoa butter, and that makes him smile, as Newt rubs lotion into Hermann’s wrists, the only place where the ropes had come into any contact with his skin, and keeps on rubbing, working it into dry hands. 

 

“You don’t look so mad now.” Newt smiles. “I take it your experiment worked?”

 

Hermann nods, beckoning Newt closer, and Newt lies down beside him obligingly. Hermann can feel Newt’s erection press into his hip, before Newt scoots back a little, his arm looped loosely around Hermann’s middle. 

 

“I love you, you know that?”

 

“Yeah, I know that.” Newt’s smile is broader, and Hermann wonders if he should be surprised by the lack of cockiness there. “I love you, too.”

 

“It-- it just… you knew everything to say and it made me remember every time I’ve ever been--”

 

“Pissed off?”

 

“Peeved with you. And then… I just… good heavens, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck…”

 

“I should have pulled you off the floor sooner.”

 

“An emotional truck.” Hermann shakes his head. “I wanted to be on the floor. It was… If I had needed something different, I think it would have been… exciting. But…”

 

“You got what you needed.” Newt kisses his cheek. 

 

“Yes. That I did. I just knew that all those times… it was a period of our lives that’s over now. Not to say you’ll never earn my wrath again, but it-- it won’t be the same. I had the chance to analyze my own feelings before speaking-- without speaking!-- and to burn through it all. It’s never been about the anger, not really, I just… never knew how to dig under it. I never knew…”

 

“I’m glad we did this, then.” Newt smiles, softer, kisses him again, and Hermann carefully rolls over, despite the twinge of protest in his hip, to tuck himself in against Newt’s body. 

 

He doesn’t shy away from the half-hard bulge, one hand moving down between them, pausing there.

 

“You don’t have to--” Newt starts, when Hermann hesitates.

 

“I want to. This wasn’t about sex for me. The part of me that might have wanted it to be is worn out. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do something for you. Just… don’t be offended if I never get hard, I’m… It’s difficult to explain. It isn’t that I’m not in the mood…? I mean, I’m not, but I’m not… not. I would enjoy helping you take care of that, but it isn’t… it isn’t a sexual enjoyment for me.”

 

Newt nods slowly. “I’d like that, then. Whatever you feel like doing, for your non-sexy gratification.”

 

“And your very sexual gratification?” Hermann chuckles. He still feels floaty and muzzy, but being able to talk things over with Newt helps him feel more himself again, more together. And he wants Newt to get off. It doesn’t feel strange to him, for the two of them to get very different things out of the experience, and Newt seems to accept his explanation, even as clumsy as he’d felt giving it. 

 

“Yeah. That.” Newt kisses him softly. Sexlessly, in spite of his arousal. Every touch he gives to Hermann is gentle and loving and undemanding. Hermann feels that aching love throb in his chest all over again and some little part of him, at once distant and buried deep, wants to weep over it. He’s glad it’s a small part, glad he doesn’t feel real tears coming to his eyes, he worries Newt would take them the wrong way. But he’s happy to feel that ache, to be broken down by the tenderness as much as by the teasing and the bondage.

 

He gets Newt’s fly open, drawing him out, and even looking down at Newt’s cock growing harder again in his hand doesn’t inspire lust in him the way it normally would. There’s fondness still, and a fierce desire to please, and he knows his own usual reactions, remembers other times they’ve started here and gone on to do so much more. Thinking about sex doesn’t leave him cold, but it does leave him unaroused, his focus entirely on the emotional side.

 

Newt is vocal with his praise, even for a slow handjob. Hermann feels like he’s trying to process the world through honey, stuck on a leisurely pace, viscous sweetness keeping him slow and heavy-limbed, but it’s a good feeling. It lingers on even as he collects all the far-flung mental pieces of himself, but Newt has no complaints, just cants his hips and thrusts into Hermann’s grip and tells him he’s the greatest.

 

Newt handles the clean-up after he’s done, letting Hermann just float along on a tide of praise. He thinks he’d have bristled at some of it without the whole process, but it’s hard to imagine being his usual self. Before the anger and the love and the complete and total acceptance that came with this deeper sense of relaxation, he knows he’d have snapped at Newt for daring to coo and call him a ‘good boy’, but now he feels free. He doesn’t have to snap, he doesn’t have to protect a false image of himself or hold to some superhuman ideal of dignity, and he doesn’t have to be angry over the small things, when Newt doesn’t deserve it… he can enjoy this. He can crave it, the way he might have craved sex, if he hadn’t needed something else out of the night, and can feel as though he isn’t giving up a part of himself in order to have this, isn’t giving up anything except for his anger.

  
Perhaps they’ll bicker again, in time-- perhaps nothing can really stop the explosive cycle of arguments in their relationship. Perhaps Newt will always find ways of making him angry. And yet, Hermann feels satisfied that when that happens, they’ll fix it, and he’ll find this calm center beyond anger again. As Newt tucks him in and coddles him, and kisses him goodnight, he’s sure of it.


End file.
